Kate

living flower

There was Still Life to be Had

“Mama, I really don’t think it’s all the way dead yet.”

That’s what my oldest proclaimed when I told him to take the dried up plants from the back porch and put them in the trashcan. He said it like a modern day Caleb, filled with promise and hope and victory.

I looked at him there, holding a hanging basket in each hand, and all I could see was a naively optimistic boy handling dried, sun-crisped former blooms.

He saw the potentials of life. 

“Please Mama. Let me water them to see if I can bring them back again. Please.”

He watched my face for signs of agreement.

I dropped my shoulders a little and sighed right into a yes.

He hung them on the edge of the canopy that sits in the corner of our high back deck. He placed them right where they needed to be to receive just the right amount of sunshine and breezeway. He watered them diligently. And then watched and waited, with hope waning and rising.

And then one day, I walked out back to find this exquisite pink blossom. Two of them, actually. One on each hanging plant. There, shooting straight out from a bed of tangled, decomposing old flowers, were these delightful clusters of fuchsia. Their stems were the liveliest of green, and they shot out long and high heralding to the world that they had not been finished yet.

I was overcome with the encouragement of it all.

We decided to let it be a life lesson over roast with gravy and baby potatoes that night at the dinner table. I took pictures of the new life and we all looked at it as we ate. We talked about not ever giving up on people or projects who show some deep seeded kind of promise somewhere. Even if you are the only one who sees it.

It’s a story about single stemmed blossoms that busted death and decided to grow again, with the help of a boy who believed they could. And it’s a story about a doubtful, earth-centered Mama who was inspired to hold onto hope, and give grace, and think with a faith-filled heavenly head a little more often.

Friends, what seems dead may end up just being a little bit dormant.

Don’t throw away what may thrive.

Marriages, prodigals, careers, health, dreams, goals, relationships, countries, ideologies, desires.

I’m saying a prayer of hope, promise, and restoration for all the eyes scanning these sentences today.

Lord, let us look for life.

living flower

bible wednesday pic

The Final Chapter

The 4th Monday in July means that we are in the 4th and final chapter of Colossians. I’m sad to see it close, but pleased to ponder what may rise up in our spirits next. Paul’s final remarks in his letter to the church in Colossae aren’t something to be skirted. There are several highlights, so I’m going to hit… Read more →

Her

Her

When I stepped out of bed at dawn that day my body told me I had lost something. My feet hit the floor. My faith rocked. I cried out. And then I crumbled. In that swift, sick moment – I felt Him say “It’s going to be okay.” But the proof of life lost leaked anyway. A doctor’s appointment later in the… Read more →

colossians

Colossians 3

I have mere minutes to sit and ponder and pour here today. I wish I could really nestle in, make room, and lie around in this chapter a while with you but alas, this Monday here is brimming. You all know I prefer a slower, calmer, peaceful way of things. But we all have days where the bustle can’t be… Read more →

books

A Reading List

I’m up earlier than my body wants to be. If I’m going to tap keys, it has to be done in the wee hours. Otherwise, I’m consumed. There’s a soft pink glow emanating from the back mountain, and it’s making me glad I pushed through the cobwebs. Last night, as I took in a few sentences from a bedside book,… Read more →

trail

Colossians 2

I smelled Christmas yesterday on the Creeper Trail in Virginia. It was an anniversary affair for all five of us as we dawned bikes and set out easy and free through a canopy of sweet green. Close to the top, just around a few of the bends, fir trees were growing in rows on farms, and their scent swept us… Read more →

muffins

Start

There are few chores I loathe more than cleaning out muffin tins. Especially the minis. Even the non-stick. It’s right up there with cleaning the crock pot. Both of these usually get some bonus ‘soak time’ simply because I spurn washing them. Very first world, I know. I’m not proud, just truthful. I love home. I love all the treasures… Read more →

fog

Colossians 1

There’s this fog that sits and lifts in the mornings here. It dances around valleys in the earliest parts of the day, sending everything into this glorious sheen. It hovers and has its moment and then it vapors, and spreads, and flies high into the hours as the sun shines fresh light on the new day. It’s Bob Ross like.… Read more →

backyard flower

Something New

There are flowers bigger than my face clinging to a hill just outside our home. They’re maroon and pink and yellow and fabulous. They sit pretty between the fence and the driveway, reminding us that life can be beautiful. I’ve learned that one of the best things about moving in spring is having the surprise of previously planted flowers. Most… Read more →

typewriter

The Night Before

I do love a good birthday. It’s the eve of my entrance into the world and I’m giddy like a child. Every time I look up from some menial, ordinary task and remember that tomorrow is my day I turn right back into a nine year old again. I’ve escaped the nest for a few hours here at the arrangement… Read more →